Deja Double
by LauraCynthia
Summary: The ski trip is at hand, and Randall is easing comfortably into his new role as package delivery guy and Cally's boyfriend.Little does he know where the ski trip is going, or who he'll meet there.
1. A New Job And A Question

_He was dying, dying in a cloud of snow and metal poles. Dying. Wet, cold, hurling, dying. Absolutely sick. Vomit. Not again. Not that machine again. But there were no buttons, no collars, no pockets, no _socks._ Then-_

"BLEEEP!"

No, it wasn't an alarm clock. A truck horn sounded in the distance, reminding Randall once more that his new world was not completely impenetrable. He looked down at himself and realised he was waring no pyjama top. For some reason, he had taken it off in the night. It hung on the back of a chair in his room, folded in half. He got out of bed and remembered the reason for his dream, the reason why he was up so early, at -what?- 5 am. The ski trip.

He had signed all the consent forms a week ago. They included such things as if you got injured, would you want to have an operation, if necessary, to save your life. For Randall, this now seemed ridiculous, as it hadn't about 4 months ago. That was when he had reached an all-time low. That was the exiling.

He didn't think about it much more, partly because of his new job, delivering packages (which was beyond 14 year old Zera's strength) and partly because of Cally.

Cally. Ever since he had admitted his feelings for her, he had really lived. She had visited him every day in the hospital, bringing food that _was _food as a replacement for the yucky slop they normally served. Then, they would talk, share stories, views about life, etc. And she had promised him he'd be well enough to go skiing. Even though he had never skiied before, she assured him he'd be all right.

"Don't worry if you don't know a ski pole from a telephone pole. Most of us are newcomers. And there's no rule that says you can only ski. As long as it involves snow, go ahead."

Then she shook her head and smiled. "That includes snowball fights, which, thanks to my brothers, I am an expert at. I can cream your-"

"Oh, yeah?" he had taunted.

"Yeah. Coincidentally, I'm also a good pitcher in baseball. Which, if I hadn't been so darn scary, I probably would have gone out for."

"But then we wouldn't have met." Randall had said.

"Well, there's the ointment that the mother of all flies is hiding." She could really turn a phrase. Randall fancied reading her book someday. No doubt it was full of such delicious language.

They kissed briefly and then Cally had to leave for her shift. At the same time, Randall's cell phone went off, no doubt because someone wanted a package delivered. They got up and went their separate ways. Randall picked up his push cart and read the text message; "Gateway(clos). 2 pkgs."

All this meant was that he had two packages waiting for him to pick them up at the Gateway (mail door) in the closet. P.E. had actually (after much complaint by monsters who wanted to order packages as well as magazines) changed the location of the door to the closet so boxes could be delivered inside instead of being left on the small top step. This required them to also furnish at least the living room of the apartment so it wouldn't look weird to the delivery guys. The result looked lived in, right down to the trash, videos and DVDs on the floor. Which made sense, since it sometimes was; by Randall.

Having access to the Gateway was a privilege, and if Randall abused it, he didn't know this. There was no law that said one could not go in here for other reasons, and doubtless, nobody else ever did. It had become, however, an obsession with Randall, seeing how far he could go. First he opened the door and got the packages, per usual, then he tried looking out the window, then the front door, and eventually he stayed around during the night and watched TV. Randall felt safe doing this mainly because his exiling wasn't splashed all over the media like Cally's, and he only had to watch out for a few people; namely Fungus, Sully, Mike and Celia. Waternoose was probably rotting in jail by now, he figured. He would mostly come here when he couldn't sleep and wanted to remember the old life he had (the good parts). Sometimes he would just stare outside. Truth be told, he was even starting to miss the very people he loathed. Just plain homesick.

The aforementioned packages were, if they were what he hoped they were, right on time. Pushing the cart down the hallway, he went through 3 pairs of sliding doors, said hi to the people he passed, the usual company yadayada he'd known before. A few wanted to ask him about their own deliveries that hadn't come on time. Randall disliked the fact that a lot of them seemed to blame it on him when their stuff didn't arrive. Like it was his fault. He only distributed the items; he had no say in when they would come. You'd think they'd know better. He suspected most of them were Borns. Borns didn't know beans about the monster world, they only thought they did.

The Gateway had little security. You could get in simply by proving you were a monster, a test which Randall had no trouble passing. All one had to do was be scanned to find anything inhuman on your body and you passed. Costumes didn't set it off. There were no records of who went in and for how long, and no surveillance whatsoever.

Opening the door, he pushed the cart in. Two long boxes were leaned against a chair. Running over, he looked at the name on the labels.

MR. R. BOGGS

c/o DIEGO LAZZA

3456 Sputum Avenue

Monstropolis, MP

XXX YYY

Randall laughed at the name that was listed on the c/o. It was, as all of P.E. knew, somewhat of an anagram for GODZILLA. Sitting down in the chair, he grabbed a boxcutter from his belt and opened the first box.

After unwrapping the paper and string, Randall pulled out the pair of skis. They were pale green, and had 2 foot straps each instead of 1, which was the standard. It was so easy to get them. He only had to send in a picture of the bottom half of his body, which they analyzed and made custom-made skis for him.

The second package contained 2 poles, also with 2 handles each, also green. Randall felt the smoothness of them and marvelled over it. Cally had said she would teach him, but he at least wanted to know how to put them on. So he tried them out in the apartment. It was a funny feeling, almost like having 2 legs only. He practiced walking around with them on, moving both feet on one side at the same time, then the other two. He actually got pretty good at it and fancied he wouldn't half mind if he did have two legs. Although he wouldn't be as fast, it would at least be interesting.

There was one part on the signing up of the trip that he didn't understand. The form asked him that, "if you are an exile, please list all the people in Monstropolis you fear might recognize you." He had written Mike, Celia, Sully, Fungus, and, oh yes, Roz, which he had forgotten about afterwards, as is evidenced earlier. He even drew pictures of them from his best memory, thanks to art camp at the age of 10. Randall still didn't know why it mattered. Cally, of course, wrote "everybody". But she was signed up under a pseudonym, so she was safe.

A loud beeping sound emitted from his watch. He looked down. 6:11 am. Leaving the apartment, he turned off the lights and closed the door. The bus wouldn't wait forever. And it left in 49 minutes.


	2. You Can't Argue With Fate

It had been one hell of a third of a year.

First of all, thanks to a unanimous vote by the whole company, Sully had been successfully elected as the new CEO of Monsters Inc. It was certainly fitting that the guy who'd been poised to break a long-standing record for scare numbers was now leading the "charge to change", as the laugh campaign was called. Nobody else as of yet knew how Sully had thought of this idea, since the whole "Boo incident" was kept under wraps. The CDA still existed, but as a shell of its former self. Their only purpose now was to, if a child entered, to make sure he/she didn't get lost in the city. They didn't even wear anticontamination suits anymore; a uniform similar to that of police sufficed. Plus, it also made them less intimidating.

Even now, several changes were being made.The canisters, much too small and therefore inefficient, were replaced by much larger ones in preparation. Sully had worked up a plan to fix the floors. He had divided the floor areas into north, south, east and west. The north floors were fixed first, while the others were still collecting screams. It was a gradual approach, as opposed to shutting the whole place down. Then, as the north became ready, it was put into production immediately. Sully reassigned known jokers to this floor, so he could get the others retrained on their spare time. Then the south would follow, then the west, and then the east.

Naturally, this was quite stressful on Sully, being new to management, but as a result of natural leadership skills he got on well enough. He could have given Mike an executive position too, but Mike declined. "Too much desk time. My grandfather was prone to hemorrhoids, and I have no desire to carry on that particular tradition." Sully suspected it was really because Mike was a go-getter, not a paper-pusher, evidenced by his poor paperwork skills.

Then the stress really kicked in. Sully had been overseeing construction on the north floors. He had been arguing about the size of a door lock with the contractor. Mike had been intently listening; after all, he was going to have to work on the floor and he wanted to know what was going on. Suddenly, Sully turned pale. He walked away, murmuring something about the bathroom. Then, about five feet from the exit door, he fainted, which made everyone look up, because they all felt the vibrations despite the others that occurred as an effect of the construction.

Pandemonium ensued. Mike ran over and kneeled down beside him to ask him what was wrong. Sully whispered, "Dizzy," and went unconcious. The workers didn't know what was going on and all ran over to make a crowd around him. Somebody grabbed a cell phone and called for an "extra-large ambulance."

The construction was halted for the day. Everybody was sure that the new CEO was going to die.

Mike paced the floor for 2 hours, waiting in the hospital. Finally, a doctor came out and ushered Mike into an empty room.

"He said he hadn't eaten this morning. His blood pressure is higher than normal. It's probably mostly stress."

"Yeah, I know. Every morning, I'm like, 'Sully, eat already. I think they can live without you for 20 minutes,' and what does he do? Puts headphones in the alarm clock and leaves an hour earlier." Mike was trying to be funny, but it wasn't working; you could tell by the tear hanging on the corner of his eye like a mystical pendant that he was worried. "Can I go see him?"

"In about an hour." That hour was the longest of Mike's life, even longer than the one in which he waited for Celia on their first date in her apartment living room. When the time was up, he walked into the room and saw his friend, weakened and lying in bed.

"Hey there, big guy."

"Hey, Mike." And they had talked.

A month later, Sully came back to work, and was pleasantly surprised to find that everyone missed him. A dump truck full of "get well" letters awaited him, as well as a "Welcome Back Sully" cake and party. The best surprise of all was from Mike, who had gone through a neighbour's door to tell Boo the news. She had promptly drawn him a picture that said "get well kitty" on it, written with a stencil and Mike's help. Sully had cried a little when he saw it.He missed her like crazy, but it helped, the card did.

There was a company trip at hand.

Sully, going back to his bad habits, had declined to go on it, saying he was "too busy". Mike didn't know, or he would have done something sooner. 2 weeks at a place called Mt. Fume Lodge would relax anybody. The cool, clear air, the beautiful scenery, and plenty of powder. That's right. Snow. Sully was rather devious when he put his mind to it, going along on shopping trips with Mike, looking at snowboards and other stuff he wouldn't buy, and pretending he was really excited about going. He even reserved a seat on the bus for himself, but as soon as Mike got off his back, he gave it up.

Celia wasn't going either, but she had her own reasons. Her best friend Katie had won a 3 week trip to Yuckwaii for two and naturally thought of her high school chum. Mike didn't mind in the least, but he occasionally teased her about it.

"I'm gonna be real lonely in the snow without you, Baby Kitten. Besides, I thought _I _was your best friend."

"Don't forget, Bitty Pea, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"I don't think you need to worry about that. My fondness for you will never peter out."

Somehow or other, Mike found out about Sully's lie. And he was none too happy about it when he barged in his office one Wednesday morning.

"Hey, Sully. I hear, with my little ear, that YOU'RE NOT GOING ON THE SKI TRIP!"

"Mike, I can't. I've got to supervise the retooling of the south floors." Sully moved his chair closer to Mike's face.

"You've seen one retooling, you've seen 'em all. I care about you, buddy. I don't want any more fainting spells. And you lied to me about signing up besides."

"That's not true. I did sign up for a seat, but then I gave it to that new guy, Rosenblatt."

"Who? You mean that thermometer on floor 8A?" Mike sat down in the chair in front of the desk. He lounged back and stared nonchalantly at his fingers. "Well, for your information, I have it on good authority that he just came down with a very nasty cold."

Sully leaned forward and put the palms of his hands on the desk. He stared at Mike. "Whose good authority?"

Mike stared a little longer, then blinked. "Okay, okay, the guy's perfectly healthy. But just say the word, and I'll go down there and sneeze on him a coupla thousand times, real subtle-like."

Sully smiled. " I don't think there's any need for that. Besides, I doubt you could do anything subtly. I'm still not-"

A knock at the door interrupted him. Both turned around. A skinny guy stood there, leaning on crutches and nursing a broken leg. "Mr. Sullivan, I'm afraid, that, well, I can't go on the trip. Wouldn't be much fun, anyway," he said, motioning to his leg. "You can have your seat back." And before anyone could say anything, he hopped away down the hall.

Sully just stared at the door. Then he opened his mouth. "Mike, did you-"

"No, I swear. I haven't a thing to do with it." Mike pleaded. "Hey, this is perfect. You can't say no, now. Call it karma, pal. You are going."

Sully looked down at Mike. "Yeah." Pause. "Yeah, well, I guess I am."


	3. Location, Location, Location

Randall trudged down the hallway, assorted gear over his shoulder. He was sweating to _death_! The lights on the ceiling didn't help; they were like big glaring eyes, staring at him. Like somebody's big glaring eyes. Spying a row of chairs, he slumped down in one and waited for Cally to finish packing.

He hardly relaxed before he heard a door being locked and somebody playing with keys. Then, the clomp of big feet in even bigger boots. Finally, a light kiss on his cheek confirmed that it was either Cally or his mother who now stood in front of him. A quick look dismissed the latter.

"Hey, wake up, you'll have plenty of time to sleep on the bus." The familiar eyes he had grown to love teased him. Then she smiled, one so sweet it would kill a diabetic, yet so alluring that he would have followed her into a door shredder, if that was where they were going.

He got up and grabbed his stuff. "I'll lead," he grinned. "Just in case there's a puddle you might wind up stepping in."

"That would be nice," she purred, something that isn't easy for just any dog to do, "if you knew the way."

"But I do," he said, slipping the left of his first pair of arms around her. "The front doors are thataway," he said, pointing in any old direction.

"Front doors?" She stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "You have no idea, do you?"

"Uhhh, now that you say I don't, I'm starting to wonder."

"I always come prepared." Rummaging through her pockets, she pulled out a burgundy scarf.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"Blindfold."

"Why?"

"Well, since you have no idea where I'm going to take you, I thought I'd make it a little more fun." She tied the scarf around his head. "Can you see anything?"

"Yes."

"Honest?"

"No."

"Thanks a lot. I'll remember that the next time you get a splinter and come crying, "Cawwy Wawwy, pweese fix me. Me got boo-boo."" She pulled him down the hallway.

"I never say that!"

"In those words, no, I'll give you that, ya big baby." He knew he was near an elevator because he heard the rumblings the gears made. "Here, you press the button." Cally guided his hand to a flat panel. He pushed the button in.

A few seconds later, he heard the doors roll open, and Cally lead him through them. Then, he heard the doors close and felt the elevator descend.

"Well, we're going down, so that eliminates the roof." He leaned against the elevator walls, slightly annoyed by the cheesy music that played.

"Yeah, I have an uncontrollable urge to push you off the top of the building right now." She giggled. "So, never been skiing before. Then what's with the 'ski accident' at age thirteen in your medical records?"

"That was just what we called it."

"Too embarrassed to tell the truth?"

"You could say that, yes."

"Come on, tell me what happened." She paused. "Hey, I won't breathe a word to Bob."

"You think that's why I won't tell you?"

"Yes. So tell me."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"You think that if you just raise your voice you can win?"

"Of course."

"Fine." He hesitated a little. "I fell out of our car."

"You _what_?" Cally couldn't help herself. "Say that again. Slower this time."

"I, fell , out , of , our, car. Seriously. It was my 13th birthday and we were living in the mountains, but none of us had ever learned to ski. And we were going to go sledding, that is, my dad, me, and a couple of my buddies. Well, we had the worst car in the world, practically falling apart.Recently, the back right door lock had gotten jammed in the open postion, so Dad had to tie the door closed every time. I had to use the bathroom en route, and Dad let me out. When I got back in, I thought everyhting was okay. Then, a couple of minutes later, we skidded on a patch of ice, and the door flew open, and I slid right out of the car. Somehow I'd forgotten my seatbelt. Anyway, I landed right on my leg, and I broke it. Everybody got out of the car, and tried to help me, making jokes about the whole thing, and finally Dad said we'd better go to the hospital, but first get me off the road. It wasn't a busy street, but a quiet mountain road. And then he did a very strange thing. He told the guys to pack snow all over me first. I was like, Dad, have you gone mad? But he didn't want to be embarrassed by the fact that we had a junk car, so that's what happened."

He knew she was staring at him. Probably reconsidering their entire relationship. But...no.

"You should submit that story to a magazine. Well, not exactly the way you told it,...expand on the details and you might very well have a winner."

"No kidding?"

"Would I ever kid you?"

"Yes."

The elevator doors opened and she dragged him along. He felt like a pet on a leash. "Well, not this time. Come along."

He still wasn't sure where she was taking him. He had an inkling, though,when she pulled a card out of her pocket and ran it through a security lock. He denied it vehemently to himself until he was 100 positive he recognized the same clicking sound he had heard several times a day for the past few months.

"Okay, you can untie that thing now, sug." Randall complied, his top hands being the most convenient for the task, as he didn't have to reach so high to grab the tight knots and work them loose. It was when he had fully untied all the knots (she'd used at least 7) and had rubbed the false sleep out of his eyes that came with the blinding, that he finally came face to face with it.

"Cally, it's..." He was at a loss for words.

"Yeah, the mail door. We're crossing the border, Ran. Why else did you think they wanted to know who on the other side wanted our heads on a platter?"

He couldn't argue with that. Instead, he opened the door and walked in to the apartment room, crossing once again into his safety zone between the two worlds he straddled every day, Cally in tow, staring at all the folks who invaded it like roaches.

Yes, Cally. Why else indeed?


End file.
